


A Working Man's Paradise

by FoxFireside



Category: Miss Fisher's Murder Mysteries
Genre: F/M, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-11-25
Updated: 2013-12-26
Packaged: 2018-01-02 14:56:55
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 5,026
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1058143
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FoxFireside/pseuds/FoxFireside
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Phryne, Bert and Cec know that Comrades should always share the benefits of labour.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> The title is that of an 1891 satirical novel by William Lane, the founder of Australia’s only Colony, the radical utopian socialist New Australia Colony (try saying that three times fast). A topic of interest to me, since my great-grandfather, his sisters and his parents were members of the Colony. Lane was a rampant racist and a bit of a nutter, but he was responsible for an intriguing and forgotten part of our national history.
> 
> Look, this is probably not everyone’s cup of tea. It’s a rare pairing (tripling?) and not something I myself had ever thought of – but I was considering Communism’s ideologies and this scenario came to me unbidden. Now I’ve written it, I’m thinking there might be fics of this sort in my future. Perhaps a series of Bert/Cec/Phryne having sex at various points throughout the episodes: silly, fun, smutty (let’s face it, smut seems to be 98% of what I write anyway).  
> Thoughts?

Cec presses firmly against her from behind, and Phryne gasps and tries to turn her head far enough to kiss him without dislodging Bert’s fingers from their exploration of her sex.  The silk sheets of her bed are rumpled and creased beyond repair by the three naked bodies twisting in search of pleasure. 

Cec’s kisses are sweet and searching: a match for the way his left hand runs down Phryne’s shoulder to reverently circle her breast, his work-rough fingers raising shivers in their wake.

It is a stunning contrast to Bert, who abandons her folds in favour of tugging her left leg over his hip so he can push into her, all hard tanned muscle and long, thick cock.  Bert kisses Phryne like it is a battle to be won -  possessive, wet and dirty.  He swallows her moans as his hips buck forward to claim her, his eyes flicking to Cec’s face as the younger man groans at the sight and sounds of Phryne being thoroughly fucked in front of him.

“Christ, Miss, the noises you make…” Cec says, eyes fixed on the place where Phryne and Bert are joined.  Cec’s hand tightens on Phryne’s breast, making her hips stutter against Bert.

“Jeez, make her do that again,” Bert gasps, head down as he begins to thrust harder.  Phryne laughs breathlessly and arches her neck.

“Yes, Cec, do it again.  Oh!”  Her teasing words trail off as Cec bites lightly at the junction of her neck and shoulder, his hand squeezing her breast before trailing down to brush the wetness where Bert splits her body open.

“Right you are, Miss,” Cec murmurs against her neck with a grin.

 

Phryne shivers at the realisation that Cec is looking over her shoulder, watching the way Bert fucks her.  Phryne sees the way Bert’s eyes darken when he realises Cec is watching.  And the way Bert twists his hips to make her moan is, she thinks, his way of showing off to his audience.

Phryne tilts her head back and whispers in Cec’s ear. “I want you to touch me.”

He shudders a little and complies, his fingers skirting across Bert’s cock (and God, the way it makes Bert moan is so delicious it should be illegal) before his talented fingers begin to press and roll against Phryne’s clit.

Between them, it doesn’t take long to bring Phryne’s arousal to the point where she can do nothing but cry out in pleasure.  Her sex convulses around Bert and he shouts hoarsely as he releases deep within her.

Panting, Bert kisses Phryne again – softer, this time – and pulls out of her, rolling onto his back.

It takes Phryne a moment to get her breath back, but when she does, she rolls over to smile at Cec, whose body is almost vibrating with frustrated arousal.

“Your turn, darling.  After all, Comrades should be rewarded according to their needs.”

“My oath,” Cec agrees eagerly as he reaches down to spread Phryne’s legs, while Bert lies with limbs akimbo, a forearm over his eyes as he recovers his strength.

“Good luck, mate.  I’m gonna need a bloody reviver after that.”

“So you’re _yes, there, Cec!_   _Oh, that feels_ …so you’re not interested in helping me with a case tonight, Bert?” Phryne manages to ask from where Cec is doing his best to bend her in half with the force of his thrusts.

 

Like all the best lovers, Bert knows when he is beaten.  He turns onto his side and wraps an arm around Cec’s waist, pulling the pair of them close enough to kiss.

“We’ll be here at six.”


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Possible warning: this chapter skirts the boundary of non-con but, I believe, avoids it. If you’re uncomfortable, skip this chapter. This chapter is very much an M rating.  
> You may have noticed that this fic is rather, well, bawdy. The fics I write about Jack and Phryne (“Infinite Variety”; “And my Desires Pursue Me”; and “Brown Rice and Kerosene” so far) are about the intellectual and sexual dance they are performing around each other. It’s about romance and love. THIS fic is about a three-way relationship that was formed under fire or “in the foxhole”, as it were: a relationship of trust and affection, forged under stress, where no-one is judged and each person is free to express their needs. I’ve given them the opportunity to speak in the way three people who grew up on the meanest working-class Australian streets would communicate in these circumstances. I hope the deep affection between Bert, Cec and Phryne comes through in my writing. In my mind, this could be a relationship that occurs before and during Phryne’s growing courtship with Jack and then trails off as she and Jack become more serious about becoming lovers. I see the Bert/Cec/Phryne relationship as one of affectionate, watch-each-others’-backs friendship and love: one that can exist in parallel with – and not have to challenge or compete with - her head-over-heels love for Jack.

A case at the docks in responsible for Phryne lurking around Port Melbourne at eleven at night dressed in entirely too much make-up and not enough clothing.  She’s playing the part of the lacklustre whore, which leaves her free to wander about the area as if in search of customers while she keeps an eye out for her real target: a sailor reputed to be slicing up prostitutes as rapidly as the poor parts of Melbourne can churn them out.

Phryne’s had no trouble fending off potential ‘dates’ over the last two hours with a combination of exorbitant pricing and a bad attitude.  There’s no shortage of other (legitimate) prostitutes in the area and no man wants to argue with her when there are easier buys just around the corner.

Phryne has just completed a slow circuit of a block of warehouses when a dark-haired man approaches her, hands in his pockets and eyes stripping Phryne’s body.  He flicks a cigarette end to the ground and leers. “How much for a fuck?”

“More than you wanna spend, love,” Phryne replies dismissively.  But the man is not so easily persuaded as his predecessors.

“I’ll be the judge o’ that.  Had a good run on the horses, me, an’ I wanna celebrate.  You’re gonna help me whether you like it or not.”  The man moves in aggressively and pins Phryne’s wrists against the wall, leaning into her.  Unable to reach the knife in her garter, Phryne is suddenly, terrifying vulnerable.

This possibility is exactly why Phryne had Bert and Cec trail her in the car tonight.

The taxi is parked in the shadows of an alley a hundred feet away, but they’re out of the car and approaching before she even tries to signal for help.   Knowing that Phryne needs to maintain her cover if she is to have a chance of luring out the killer, Bert adopts an angry expression and charges toward Phryne with his voice raised.

“There’s the bloody bitch!  You thought you could take my mate’s money and scarper, did ya?”

“Oy…” Phryne’s aggressor starts to protest, but Bert points a finger at Phryne and continues his tirade.  “You’ve got a bloody nerve, sweet’eart, coming back to this part o’ the docks.  Wha’, didya think we wouldn’t find ya?”

Phryne’s would-be client backs off in the face of Bert’s clear grudge.  It helps that Cec adopts an attitude of being hell-bent on getting what he had earlier ‘paid for’.  But when the man fails to leave, instead lurking twenty feet away, Phryne has no choice but to continue the charade.

“’Orright, ya can’t blame me for trying.  Ya paid for a fuck, didnya?”  Phryne arches her chest towards Cec and bites back a grin at the way Cec’s eyes light up as if he can’t believe his luck.

“Too right I did,” he agrees, still acting the part of the cheated client.  Even as he tugs open his belt, Cec checks Phryne’s face to make sure she’s alright with this.

Phryne is slightly surprised to find that she is.  The dark-haired man’s aggression had shaken her and she’s less than pleased that he is hanging around to watch, but – considering that she and Cec are basically being forced into this – she feels…excited.  Aroused.  After all, sexual intimacy is hardly a chore with either of her lovely boys, even if the circumstances are less than ideal.

Cec gets his fly unbuttoned and uses his body to press Phryne’s back against the brick wall.  The feeling of him, young, strong and hard against her, is always a pleasure.  Impatient now, Phryne yanks her skirt up and lets Cec run his hands under her clothes and around to her naked arse to haul her up the wall so she can wrap her legs around his waist.

“I’ve been thinking of this all night, Miss.  Watching you swan around dressed up like a slag…it does things to a man.” Cec’s words are whispered so that the dark-haired man can’t hear, but Bert, leaning one hip against the wall a few feet away, hears and smirks.

“Ya better hurry up, mate.” Bert drawls, one hand pressing against his own crotch: “I want my bloody go before we leave.”

Cec closes his eyes and laughs against Phryne’s cheek.  Then he surges into movement: pushing Phryne up the wall and letting her sink down onto his cock.

Cec’s thrusts are rapid and hard – the actions of a man who’s been sexually frustrated for hours.  There is little Phryne can do but hang on and let him move her as he wishes.  The way Cec – sweet, smiling Cec – just takes control and _fucks_ her is winding Phryne’s body tight with arousal.  She doesn’t kiss him – a whore wouldn’t – but she lets her head loll back against the wall and gives into the sensations he’s creating as he twists his hips and uses his strong arms to help her move in time with him.

“Christ..I’m gonna…” With a final violent shove of his hips, Cec releases deep inside Phryne.  She moans at the feeling of his cock pulsing and the heat he produces inside her.  When he withdraws from her body and sets her back on her feet, Phryne has to take a moment to remember why she can’t kiss him and demand he use his mouth to finish her off.

But the hostile dark-haired man is still watching from near the street corner.  And the way his eyes are taking Phryne apart as she leans against the wall with Cec’s come running down her thigh makes her reconsider her earlier belief that the foreign sailor she is hunting works alone.  Perhaps the horrifying truth is that he uses a partner – a dark-haired, violent local man – to help source his favourite entertainment.

Something must change in her expression, because Cec stops smiling and begins to voice a question.  Phryne silences him with a minute shake of her head.  If her watcher is indeed an ally of the man she is seeking, anything suspicious now may send her suspect post-haste to begin his work in a new port, beyond Phryne’s reach.

She sees Bert’s eyes flick to the watcher and back.  His eyes widen a touch as he connects the dots and comes to the same conclusion as she.  Aware of what is at stake, he straightens his back and throws a mean swagger into his voice.

“What are ya waiting for, a bloody invitation?  I reckon you owe me for all the trouble I had chasin’ ya down.”

“Ya wanna fuck, ya gotta pay,” Phryne rejoins, most of her attention on the man watching them.  His eyes are picking over Phryne and Bert as if dissecting their interaction, but he doesn’t seem suspicious - so far.

“Who said anything about a fuck?”  Bert‘s hand on her shoulder pushes Phryne to the ground in front of him as he leans casually against the wall.  “I want to see that smart-arse mouth put to good use, ya hear me?”

Between them, Bert and Cec have a clear view of the dark-haired man without seeming as if they are looking.  Phryne knows that if she gives the slightest signal, Bert and Cec will bundle her safely into the car and take her home, apologising all the way for their sexual advances.  But if Phryne is right about their watcher being an accomplice to the assaults that have marred Port Melbourne, she must see this through.

It helps that Bert is looking down at her with wonder and desire in his eyes, even as his mouth maintains the lusty leer of the persona he’s adopted. 

At her miniscule nod, Bert undoes his trousers and tugs himself free with a few strokes for good measure.  “Come on, give us a good suck, sweet’eart,” he demands as Phryne favours him with a mock glare and a twinkle of a smile.  She knows exactly how to wipe the smirk off Bert’s face.

“Ya want me to suck it?  To swallow ya down, love?  Let ya fuck my mouth?”  Phryne gloats at the way Bert’s face goes slack with arousal, his breathing laboured and his hands twitching.  Taking pity on him, she follows her words with her tongue wrapping around Bert’s flesh.  Her lips part around his cockhead and her tongue flicks out to trace the velvet skin even as Bert struggles not to simply thrust into her mouth.

A genuine client would not be so considerate of a whore.

Bert moans when Phryne lets him slip from her mouth, but when she whispers, “make it look real,” and returns to her work, he sighs in relief and wraps one strong hand around the back of her head to guide her movements.  Through long association and trust, he knows exactly how rough he can be without scaring Phryne.  Using his grip on her hair, Bert holds Phryne’s head still and begins to thrust purposefully into her hot, wet mouth.

“Fu..fuck.  That’s it.” Bert pants, his eyes half-lidded as he watches the way his cock disappears between Phryne’s red lips.  His hips begin to press forward to match the rhythm of Phryne’s head as the tension within his body starts the inevitable race towards orgasm.

As much as he wants to watch the way his best mate is fucking Phryne’s mouth, Cec forces himself to keep a seemingly casual eye on the street.  The man watching them has drawn a little closer but, far from being suspicious, seems to be transfixed on the free pornography being played out against the filthy brick wall.

“ _Come on come on_...” Bert begins to chant under his breath as Phryne picks up speed and hollows her cheeks to create a vacuum.  Apparently, it’s more than Bert can withstand, because his back arches and he moans deep in his throat, his thrusts turning wild and frantic.  Phryne loosens her throat and lets him drive himself to completion.  When Bert’s cock pulses against her tongue, Phryne does her best to swallow the salty fluid before spitting the last of it on the ground.

“Christ on a bike,” Bert pants, head thrown back against the grimy bricks.  Phryne stands on wobbly legs, trying to ignore the insistent tingling of her sex as her own arousal demands attention.  Under the guise of wiping her mouth with the back of her hand, she mutters, “I’ll do a lap of the block to see if our new friend tries to recruit me as victim number seven.  Follow as close as you can without being seen.”  Out loud, she drops back into the coarse speech of her youth: “I reckon youse got ya money worth an’ more, right?  I got a living to make.  Youse wanna see me again, I’ll be ‘ere tomorra’ night.”

She saunters off down the dark street as if she’s in the habit of fucking multiple men a night for money.  Bert and Cec make a show of slapping each other on the back and appear to wander off in search of fresh entertainment, lewdly singing “My Beautiful Muff” as they go.

 

)()()(

In takes four hours, a torn dress and a heartstopping moment when Phryne worries she’s in over her head, but the night ends with a pair of woman-slashing rapists in custody and a young would-be victim rescued from an abandoned warehouse.

At half-past three in the morning, they finally pile back into the taxi and head for the hot bathwater and soft bed waiting at Phryne’s house.  Cec drives, Bert hugs Phryne against his chest in the backseat, and she dozes off with Bert’s warm arms wrapped protectively around her and the taste of his come in the corners of her mouth.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Australian folk music for the uninitiated:  
> “My Beautiful Muff” – the song Bert and Cec sing - is one of many Australian folk songs that originated in the mid to late 1800s and were popular in back bars of pubs right through to the Second World War. Some are full of swearing, while others, such as “My Beautiful Muff”, rely on innuendo. Working class Bert and Cec would definitely be familiar with these sorts of tunes. Reproduced below (and in the public domain) are a few clever verses to give you the idea:  
> ‘Oh, my muff is the finest that ever you saw,  
> And all the young lads its attraction does draw.  
> It’s lined with red velvet, and the outside is rough,  
> And as warm as a stole is my beautiful muff.  
> …  
> Now the night being cold, she felt rather inclined  
> To go into a tap to have biscuits and wine,  
> Oh, the wine being strong she fell asleep fast enough,  
> And the lads they played hell with her beautiful muff.  
> …  
> Now all you young girls who stroll out at night,  
> Be aware of the lads on whom you would light;  
> They’ll booze you up quickly and that fast enough,  
> And tear a great hole in your beautiful muff!


	3. Chapter 3

When Cec parks in front of the Fisher residence, fatigue and the lingering whispers of shock mean Phryne doesn’t protest when Bert climbs out of the taxi and hoists her into his arms.  He carries her up the path to the front door, which is opened by Mr Butler at Cec’s insistent knocking.

“Miss Fisher!”

“She’s alright,” Cec assures the man.  “Just in need of a hot bath and a stiff drink, I reckon.”

“Of course.  Take her upstairs, gentlemen.  I’ll get Miss Williams to run the bath while I put together something strong enough to help rouse her a bit.”  Mr Butler is pure efficiency as he hustles them inside.

Bert reaches the foot of the stairs before Phryne begins to wiggle.

“Put me down, Bert.  My pride is battered enough without having you carry me upstairs like a blushing bride.”  She complains, starting to sound more like her usual self as she starts to shake off the lethargy that clings to her.

“Blushing bride my arse,” Bert retorts, but he gently sets her on her feet.  “You alright, Miss?  You look a bit wobbly.”

“I’m fine, Bert.  Just a bit tired.  Plus, that seeing to that Cec gave me left me a bit weak-kneed,” she does her best to smirk as she leans her weight against the wall to hide just how tired she is.  The night’s close shave flooded her veins with adrenalin, but now that it has faded, she is acutely aware of the lateness of the hour and the docklands’ grime on her skin.

“You’ve had a hard night.  Let us look after you, Miss,” Cec says in a quiet voice.  His face is so earnest that her resistance to being fussed over fades.

..

The malachite bathtub is soon full of steaming water to which Dot has thoughtfully added pine-scented oil.  Phryne wastes no time in shucking her ruined dress and lets Cec kneel to roll her stockings down and off.  When she sinks into the water, she lets out a sigh of relief. 

“I’ll go let Mr Butler and Dottie know you’re back in the land of the living.  They were pretty worried.  And I reckon we could _all_ do with a strong drink.  I’ll bring the bottle of whiskey back up with me,” Bert says.  He drops his hat and overcoat on the floor and leaves to seek out alcohol and the household staff, in that order.

Which leaves Cec standing awkwardly in the middle of the floor, watching Phryne rub Solvol, followed by a scented soap, across her naked skin. 

“Oh, for goodness sake, take off those clothes and join me, Cec,” she says when she notices his hangdog expression.

Cec doesn’t need telling twice.  Phryne casts an appreciative eye over his body as first his vest and shirt, then his trousers and undershorts are dropped to the floor.  He carefully steps into the bath and sits, the hot water closing over tanned skin and old scars.

They face each other through the steam, until Phryne lifts one small foot to rest low on Cec’s torso.

“Thank you,” she says without a hint of shyness.  “You and Bert probably saved me from rape, tonight.  And with that pair of bastards set to hang, you’ve helped save a lot of other women too.”

Cec’s eyes close in a grimace of pain as he considers the horrific possibility of Phryne ever being attacked like that, and he promises himself that he will always do everything he can to protect her…even if she is normally quite capable of doing the protecting herself.

“I’m just glad you’re alright, Miss,” is all he says out loud.  The soft look she gives him says he doesn’t need to say the words – the message is understood. 

Moving sinuously through the water, Phryne reaches for Cec and draws him to sit in the vee of her legs, his back against her chest.  He allows himself to relax as she repeats the cleansing ritual of Solvol and scented soap over his hair and skin, washing him clean of the muck and worry of the night.

When her hands dip beneath the water to trace down his stomach and lower, between his legs, Cec hums appreciatively. 

“Well, Cec, haven’t you risen to the occasion?” she teases, breath hot against his ear.

Cec laughs and half turns in the bath, scooping her into his arms and tugging her onto his lap.  “If you’re telling me you’re not interested, Miss, I’m sure Bert and I can leave you in peace to rest.  You have had a long day, after all…”  The squeal of mock protest he gets in response makes him laugh.  And the way she wiggles, wet and slippery with soap, on his lap makes him moan.

 

Bert returns, whiskey bottle dangling from his fingers, to eye them with suspicion.

“I’m gone for ten bloody minutes and you get her all stirred up,” he complains.  “She’s meant to be resting, you berk.”

Phryne laughs and rolls her eyes.  “I’m fine, Bert.  A little tired, a little sore, but fine.  Cec was just…” she shrugs artfully, “…helping stir my blood.”

Cec gives Bert a smug smile and brings both hands around to cup Phryne’s breasts, his eyes on Bert the whole time.  “You heard the lady.  We’re recuperating, ain’t we, Miss.”

“Maybe we should recuperate on the bed?  Bert looks like he needs a good wash.”  She says, casting a sultry look at Bert.

Cec and Phryne stand and make their way out to the bedroom, hands roaming across wet skin as they go.  Bert is left by himself to get undressed and wash, mumbling the whole time about sneaky bastards leaving a mate hung out to dry.

 

He stops complaining fifteen minutes later when Phryne lets him bury himself between her thighs and fuck her into the mattress.

As far as Bert is concerned, the night has been a success on several levels.

 

()()()() 

Solvol - a grainy, grey soap used to remove grease, grime and dirt from Aussie hands since 1915.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’d like to make everyone aware that the last chapter’s situation (“they all need a bath after the night at the docks”) came from Firebird 9, while this chapter’s situation was suggested by D Sayers. Thank you, my lovelies! D Sayers, this took an unexpected direction as I wrote – I hope you like it, regardless.
> 
> IMPORTANT: For those of you who don’t know, Miss Fisher’s Murder Mysteries is produced by the Australian Broadcasting Corporation, which is a government-run and -funded station. No further seasons of the show have been confirmed. IF YOU WANT FURTHER SEASONS, please sign the ‘Save Miss Fisher’s Murder Mysteries’ petition on [change.]org and/or email the ABC at [www.abc.]net.au[/contactabc.htm] (remove the square brackets) to express your interest in the show continuing. The ABC produces great shows, but with a limited budget, they’ll only proceed with ‘Miss Fisher’ if there is enough interest. Kerry Greenwood, along with several of the series’ actors and production staff, have asked fans to support the show through these avenues. Please help!

 

“Christ, if we catch him I’ll kill the bloody bastard,” Bert growls, his injured hands tracing gently over the bruises marring Phryne’s left side.

**

He and Cec’d been alerted to the trouble at the Fisher residence as a pyjama-clad Mr Butler raced past them armed with a cricket bat.  Following him back to the house, they’d been distressed to realise that when they’d left not five minutes previously, a burglar had already been lurking upstairs.

The moment they saw Phryne silhouetted in the light spilling from the front door, her hand clutching at her side, the two cabbies had carefully bustled her back inside.  While Dot sought out arnica bruise lotion and Mr Butler secured the front and back doors, Bert and Cec checked upstairs to ensure no other surprises were waiting.

“He won’t be back.  He got what he came for.”  Unnoticed, Phryne had entered the bedroom and was leaning against the bed, a poorly disguised wince crossing her face.

“Show us,” Cec demanded in a soft voice that managed to brook no argument.  In response, he got a scowl and a shake of Phryne’s dark head.

“I’m fine, Cec.  Just a little banged up.  You can’t come running to my rescue every time there’s a problem.”

Unconvinced, Bert stepped forward and pulled up the hem of Phryne’s blouse before she could protest.  The sight of vivid purple bruises blossoming across the pale skin of her abdomen caused both men to suck breath in between their teeth in sympathy.

A set of calloused fingertips traced gently across Phryne’s skin, raising goosebumps and a slight shiver of pain in their wake.

“He hurt you,” Bert’s voice – rumbling like gravel and deceptively calm – promised vengeance on any man who would raise a hand to any woman, but especially this one.  As Bert turned Phryne towards him and bent down to get a better look at the bruising, Cec approached and wrapped his arms around her from behind.  Phryne let her head drop back against Cec’s shoulder as she mumbled, “I’m perfectly capable to fighting my own battles, you know.  I’m not useless.”

Cec snorted a laugh.  “We know.  That bloke, what was it, three weeks ago?  The one who tried to Dot’s handbag?  And you…”

Bert broke in, face creased in a smile, “…you tripped him into the bougainvillea and threatened to stab him in the throat with your heel if he ever stole a lady’s handbag again.”

Phryne smiled in fond remembrance, but she was still annoyed that Bert and Cec seemed to feel that she needed them to swoop in and ‘save’ her.

Bert’s eyes flicked up to Phryne’s face before he dropped awkwardly to one knee and pressed a kiss against her blackening skin.  His nose wrinkled at the taste of Dot’s bruise lotion, but his lips never left her skin as he ensured that every inch of assaulted flesh was kissed.

“Mmmm….I never had you down as a romantic, Bert,” Phryne’s words were a little amused; her fingers loving as they carded through his hair.

Bert flushed a little as Cec laughed, but he sought his revenge with a well-placed nip to the skin just above her waistband on Phryne’s uninjured side, earning him a breathy moan and a tightening of her fingers in his hair.

“Dot was very insistent that I should rest.  She’s convinced I’ve cracked a rib.”

Cec tilted his head and kisses Phryne, careful not to cause her to arch her neck too much.  “Is she right?” he asked against her mouth.  His gaze was sharp.  For all that he is usually laidback and cheery, Cec was a soldier once – a fact Phryne was reminded of as his face betrayed his anger against Phryne’s unknown assailant.

Still half-kneeling in front of her, Bert added in a voice like thunder, “Christ, if we catch him I’ll kill the bloody bastard.”

**

So now Phryne sighs and steps sideways out of both men’s grasps.

“You both need to stop.  I am _alright_.  I don’t need to be treated like a porcelain statue that should be left up on a shelf!”  She’s aware that her anger seems unwarranted, but damn it!  She’s fought bloody hard for her independence and paid a high price for it.  As much as it warms her that there are people in her life who will watch her back, she needs to make sure that Bert and Cec understand that she will _not_ sit back from danger and adventure just because she is a woman.

“Doesn’t mean you should go galloping headlong into peril like a bloody idiot!”  Bert climbs to his feet and sets his jaw, ready to have it all out.  “You coulda been _killed_.”

“Any one of us could die at any time, Bert.  We can’t stop living our lives the way we want just in case something goes wrong!”

“No, but a bit of common bloody sense wouldn’t go astray,” he retorts.  Cec nods his agreement, shoulders back and chin jutted forward.

Phryne crosses her arms over her chest.  “So if you’d been here, you wouldn’t have gone upstairs to confront the intruder?”

“Yes…no.  I would have, but that’s different.  I’m…”

Phryne’s lip curls in contempt.  “What, a man?  Stronger?  What makes it alright for you to do, but not alright for me, Bert?”

“Because we can’t stand to see you hurt, alright?  I’ve lost two good mates already and I’m not about to lose another one!”

Standing in the middle of the room, hands balled into fists, Bert’s face is honest and broken.  All the fight leaves Phryne in an instant as she realises that while she may not like the way Bert and Cec sometimes act as if she can’t do something herself, it is their way of showing their admiration and fondness for her.  For Bert, his physical strength is a gift he can offer in her service; while Cec’s street-smarts and ability to wheedle information from people are skills he often uses for Phryne’s advantage.

And she’d just acted like none of it mattered.

“Oh Bert, come here.”  She steps forward and wraps her arms around his still form, ignoring the pain in her side as she waits for his muscles to slowly relax under her touch.  As Bert’s anger begins to dissipate, Phryne reaches out with her right arm to pull Cec into the hug too.  The younger man grudgingly allows her to embrace him, his frown only really easing when Phryne presses a kiss to each man’s cheek along with a whispered apology.

After a few minutes locked together in this odd tableau, Bert clears his throat and manages to work a touch of licentiousness into his voice:  “So, do you feel well enough to offer a full apology?”

“Bert!” Phryne whacks his chest in mock outrage, but she giggles as Cec worms a hand down the back of her trousers.  “I think I can be persuaded.”

Bert walks her backwards towards the bed, his mouth on her neck keeping her attention fully focused.  As such, Phryne is caught unawares when Cec slides onto the bed behind her and catches her with gentle hands as she drops into his lap.

“’ello,” Cec smiles, all arguments forgiven.  Avoiding her sore side, Cec turns Phryne on his lap so she sits with her right side pressed against his chest and her legs hanging off the side of his lap.  In this postion, she is able to capture Cec’s mouth in a deep kiss.  He slowly falls sideways onto the bed, taking Phryne with him.  She lies on her uninjured side, Cec pressed against her back, his hands exploring her breasts through the silk of her blouse.  As Cec bites and sucks at Phryne’s neck, she arches her neck and presses back into his warm, firm body.

“I’m so sorry,” she whispers.  Cec responds with a soft kiss on her temple and the delving of one hand beneath her waistband to caress her sex.  Phryne’s soft noise of enjoyment spurs Cec on and he begins to work on unbuttoning her trousers.

“Lemme help.” Bert steps forward from where he had been watching and again drops to his knees, this time beside the bed.  He leans forward to brush a kiss across Phryne’s brow, then fumbles with bandaged hands to undo the fastenings of her trousers.  As he pushes the fabric down her legs, Bert offers a smile of forgiveness and Phryne reaches out with one hand to trail her fingers across his cheek.

“Thank you.  For caring.”  She says even as the movement of Cec’s fingers cause her eyes to squeeze closed.

A genuine smile crosses Bert’s face as he climbs onto the bed to join his best mate and the woman they will always protect.


End file.
